


What Might Have Been Lost

by BrighteyedJill



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-17
Updated: 2011-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-01 20:45:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam knew a man ripe for manipulation when he saw one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Might Have Been Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://dame-thora-hird.livejournal.com/profile)[**dame_thora_hird**](http://dame-thora-hird.livejournal.com/) for Five Acts, Round Five. Thanks to [](http://redandglenda.livejournal.com/profile)[**redandglenda**](http://redandglenda.livejournal.com/) for beta-ing!

“Too easy,” Adam thinks, when he finds Luke walking on the outskirts of town. The possibilities spread out before him, a tantalizing array of plans. He allows himself a moment to savor what he’s about to do. It will never happen as perfectly as he imagines it, but oh, it will be enough.

Adam hits the gas until he’s nearly alongside Luke. Then he slams on the breaks hard and throws the car into park. He launches himself out, shouting across the street to his prey, who has turned at the sound of squealing tires. “Luke!”

Luke’s expression turns wary, and he brings up fists that have begun to glow red.

“Are you alright?” Adam calls, and approaches slowly. He doesn’t mind dying a messy death now and again, but he’d rather avoid it today. He likes this shirt.

“What?” Luke asks.

Adam enjoys the way the boy’s round face scrunches up in confusion. He takes two slow steps closer. “You are Luke, aren’t you? Sylar’s Luke?”

Luke lifts his chin, proud, and Adam catches a glimpse of the black leather collar under the boy’s jacket. “Who wants to know?”

Adam steps up onto the curb, close enough to touch. “He sent me to get you.”

After that, it’s easy. Luke gets into his car. Luke goes into the hotel room with him. Luke looks around thoughtfully, but not nervously, not yet. That’ll change, Adam suspects.

Adam settles a hand on Luke’s neck and says, “Sylar said if I found you, you’d make it worth my while.”

“Bullshit.” Luke’s face curls into a sneer, and he shoots Adam a skeptical look over his shoulder.

Adam shrugs. “Suit yourself. I don’t have to bring you back.” He looks Luke up and down, appraising him from the toes of his dirty sneakers to the untidy fringe of hair. “I’d be doing him a favor, not saddling him with an ingrate like you.”

“Tell me where he is!” Luke lunges for him, grabs his arms. Adam feels the burn of Luke’s power, first warm, then painful.

Adam breaks Luke’s grip and shoves him back hard, sending him sprawling to the floor. He strips off his shirt—damn, _another_ one ruined—and with just his t-shirt on, Luke can see the freshly healed skin of his arms, unmarred by Luke’s attack. “I’m like him,” Adam says. He wads up his scorched shirt and tosses it on the bed. “And this is a waste of my time.” He turns to the door, reaches for the handle.

“Wait!” Luke shouts.

It’s easy to get him into bed, after that. He’s defiant, mouthy, but yielding when Adam presses the right buttons. The tiniest bit of praise—“Your mouth feels so good.” or “Open up for me… Well done.”—has Luke panting for him. He doubts Sylar grasped the subtleties of a game like this. Sylar was a blunt instrument, getting by on raw charisma and force. He wouldn’t have seen the pleasure Adam can wring from the situation using a little bit of honey with his poison.

This boy—Luke—is delightfully responsive to Adam’s words. When Adam whispers, “Now, Luke, come for me,” with his hand wrapped around Luke’s cock, the boy obeys with a helpless shout, as if compelled.

Luke lies face down on the bed afterwards while Adam smokes a cigarette.

“He’s not coming back for you,” Adam says. He grinds out the cigarette on the nightstand.

Luke flinches, but he says, “Yeah. I thought maybe he wasn’t. Did he really send you?”

“What do you think?” Adam asks, because he’s honestly curious.

Luke half shrugs, which is difficult to accomplish while lying down. “Whatever. But you’re like him, so that means something.”

Adam leans back against the headboard and considers that response. “Would you like to come with me?”

“Yeah, right.” Luke buries his face in the pillow and mutters, “Like I believe anything you have to offer.”

“You can’t possibly be more obnoxious than my last traveling companion.” Adam reaches over and drags a finger up Luke’s spine until he touches the soft leather of his collar.

Luke jerks away as if burned, and crouches on the bed, a cornered animal, watching Adam.

“Besides, when I tire of you, I’ll tell you to your face.” He taps out another cigarette from his pack, puts it in his mouth, then extends the pack to Luke.

Luke watches him for a second more, then reaches out to take what’s Adam’s offering.


End file.
